


You're Gonna Die (I'm Gonna Kill You)

by Godspeed_Cowboy



Category: Naruto
Genre: AKA Sakura finally snaps, All the dark stuff is portrayed in a bad light, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Attempted Seduction, BAMF Haruno Sakura, Barriers, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Blood and Violence, By Stegosaurus Rex, Cages, Castles, Chains, Check out the song Nowhere To Run, Cities, Conflict, Crying, Dark, Dubious Consent, Everything Hurts, Explosions, False Identity, Fights, Fire, Gen, Gifts, Graphic, Graphic Description, Graphic Violence, Haruno Sakura Has Issues, Haruno Sakura Needs a Hug, Haruno Sakura-centric, Heavy Angst, Honeypot Missions gone wrong, Human Trafficking, Hurt, Hurt/Possible Comfort, I can't remember if I clarified her age in the story but oh well, I hate the village a lot, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Internal Conflict, Kept in a cage, Kept in a dark room, Kidnapping, Konohagakure | Hidden Leaf Village, Minor Character Death, Missions gone off the rails, Motels, Not Beta Read, Not Happy, One Shot, POV Haruno Sakura, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge, Sad, Sakura coming to the realization that she hasn't been anyone's first choice and it's sad, Sakura doesn't have the byakugo yet, Sakura has conlficted feelings about Sasuke, Sakura is in her teens in this, Sakura is my punching bag and I'm a boxer, Sakura sweety I'm so sorry for putting you through this, Sea Side Cities, Seduction, Seduction Mission, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Sex, Sexual Assault, Sexual Content, Strong Female Characters, Strong Haruno Sakura, Tags Are Hard, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, There's creepy old men in this, This one is gonna be a ride so buckle the hell up y'all and please read the tags, Torture, Trauma, Travel, Underage Sex, Violence, Violent, Violent Thoughts, brief comfort, but she does train under tsunade, city, disassociation during sex, it depends really, it fits the vibe of this nicely, it's both y'all, it's worse than wave, jashin and death appear briefly, like just straight up die, making friends in a hellscape, no beta we die, not like men we just go blegh, or the super strength, shackles, she gets TWO, spoilers in the tags, the village is terrible because they send literal kids on seduction missions, use of Axes, you can decide what age if you think it'll affect how much it hurts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:13:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25874911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Godspeed_Cowboy/pseuds/Godspeed_Cowboy
Summary: Sakura is sent away after team seven falls apart, a mission for the better of the village. Somehow, it goes wrong, but maybe it's for the best?
Relationships: Dai-nana-han | Team 7 & Haruno Sakura, Haruno Sakura & Hatake Kakashi, Haruno Sakura & Hatake Kakashi & Uchiha Sasuke & Uzumaki Naruto, Haruno Sakura & Inner Haruno Sakura, Haruno Sakura & Original Character(s), Haruno Sakura & Original Female Character(s), Haruno Sakura & Original Male Character(s), Haruno Sakura & Sai, Haruno Sakura & Shizune, Haruno Sakura & Uchiha Sasuke & Uzumaki Naruto, Haruno Sakura & Yamanaka Ino, Haruno Sakura & Yamato | Tenzou, most relationships are described briefly or in passing
Comments: 23
Kudos: 192





	You're Gonna Die (I'm Gonna Kill You)

**Author's Note:**

> So um. This is uh. My first dark fic? Well, not really, but what I mean is that it's much darker than my last dark fic. Increadibly darker. I tried my best though! Please enjoy!
> 
> Twitter: @YeehawMitski

_It’s an easy one_ , they tell her, _in and out_. 

They give her a mission when Naruto leaves to train with the Great Toad Sage and Kakashi creeps into ANBU as silent as ever with Yamato and Sai and Sasuke is wandering somewhere unknown to her, effectively leaving her alone in active duty. They hand her a scroll from the bottom of the barrel as soon as she walks in, taking one look at her face and she knows she must look something ghastly for them to decide she needs a shinobi style vacation. The mission sounds as simple as they said. In and out indeed. Infiltrate a rich man’s social circle on the West Coast of Fire Country, find proof that he’s shipping big bucks to an offshore account and trafficking girls even younger than herself, and bring back evidence to present to the Daimyo’s court. Very easy. Plus she has the benefits of getting to go to a beach and play pretend and get spoiled for a few weeks under the guise of being a high class escort, and the photo of her target shows her he doesn’t look half bad so she won’t have to worry about lying too much.This isn’t her first rodeo and it certainly won’t be her last (unfortunately).

She’s getting relaxation handed to her on a silver platter and she can’t help but think that maybe it’s for the best.

A little bit of rage bubbles beneath her skin when she comes back home and sees their picture on her walls, a quiet thing that settles into her bones with a weary ache. The same team she’d shared countless adventures with, all sunshine smiles and bubbly preteen personality, and the later a false companionship but battle ready attitude and comradery, fill her with the same anger that she bottles up now, and she finds it almost funny enough to smile. But it isn’t enough. So she moves on, does the house chores, watches some TV which is more of a background noise to her spacing out, and then does her nightly routine before slipping under her covers. 

In four weeks time she is set to leave. In the meantime she’ll plan. Yet her night is restless and she finds herself wanting, for what she doesn’t know. Maybe Sasuke, maybe her friends and family, maybe for Team Seven to be whole and be an actual team . . . maybe for some justice or reasoning for her being left behind . . . maybe for power and a proper outlet for her emotions . . . maybe . . .

She blacks out, and for two weeks she is in a dizzy haze and stuck in her home and mind.

Two weeks before she is set to leave, she finds herself at the gates. It’s dark out, the streets still empty and dead quiet. She leans against the post, the guard asleep and the patrol about twenty minutes away from her and coming closer, biting the nail of her thumb and thinking. 

She isn’t sure how much longer she can stay here, stay in Konoha. She knows she isn’t as happy as she’d like to be, hasn’t been for a while now, and she knows the feeling won’t get better the longer she stays, it’ll just get worse until it snaps and she doesn’t want that, doesn’t want to snap. There isn’t much holding her back either, save for Shishou, Shizune-nii, maybe Ino if she’s lucky. She’s just an apprentice at the hospital right now, so they wouldn’t question it if she stopped coming by, they’d end up cancelling it after a few days, take her absence as resignation. The rest of her peers she knows won’t notice her disappearance nor will they care much, they don’t know her beyond their work and a few passes in the streets and they’re all caught up in each other’s teams respectively. Naruto will be gone for months, and when he comes back he’ll be focused on Sasuke and becoming Hokage the second he steps into Konoha. Kakashi will stay in ANBU, no doubt, occasionally coming out when he’s required, probably to be the leader of the new Team Seven. Sai and Tenzou are off doing whatever it is they do, probably something illegal but allowed by the Hokage or the Council for the better of the village. And Sasuke, well . . . was he ever really around to begin with?

After the death of his family, there wasn’t really anything to anchor him here, save for Naruto and maybe Kakashi, but Sasuke has his own agenda, his own desires, and he has a will just as strong as the rest of her team so of course he’s going to pursue whatever it is he wants.

So no, there isn’t much that’s stopping her. So the question still stands, why can’t she take just a teensy tiny step beyond the gates?

The answers, of course, are glaringly obvious.

For one, she isn’t packed for a journey like that, standing out here in the cold night in her pajamas, the breeze blowing through her as if she were a ghost and as unarmed as a civilian child. She’d be a fool to leave on impulse like that and would rather leave on the impulse of preparation and taking a vacation on a whim. Second, she is forever loyal to her Shishou and Shizune-nii, dangerously so, and that much will never, ever change. To her they really are her family, or at least that’s what she hopes it is. She’d die for them, even. In a heartbeat. Third . . .

She doesn’t want to take the chance of being shadowed by him, by Sasuke. As far as she knows, her own dreams, her own desires, have never really been _her own_. It’s always been for Team Seven, for Ino, Shishou, Shizune-nii. When she wanted to get stronger, she sought out powerful people, and had met Tsuande and Shizune. When she wanted love, she wanted Sasuke, and people had let her, including Sasuke himself. When she wanted family, she had turned to Team Seven, and they had provided it and in exchange she had acted as the teammate who needed protection and who looked up to them but would certainly never catch up, just for them. Anything she has ever done or spoken, ever wanted, ever strived to be, it’s always revolved around them. _Especially_ Sasuke. 

So, if she left, here and now, what would they think? That she’d be leaving for Sasuke? That she wanted what he had? They know Sasuke has a reason to leave, a decent one, but what about her? Would they think her want of a childhood sweetheart was a valid reason, that she’d want Sasuke and want to be with him enough to abandon her own village in the name of love and personal loyalties? Even if it wasn’t there anymore, that love and loyalty, that crush turned to dust the moment she realised? 

. . . Would they come search for _her_ , too? Would they _care_ enough?

In the end, it all boils down back to the same question. What would everybody think and how would everyone react? She’s caught between a rock and a hard place and she isn’t sure which one would be better for her and everyone involved.

She finds herself turning around and walking back into the village and she wants to scream, so loud that even the Pure Lands beyond, even the Shinigami himself, would hear it.

But she doesn’t. Instead she does the normal thing, and she goes back home and falls mechanically into bed, stiff as a board and staring up at the ceiling until she goes back to sleep. 

Once again, her next two weeks are spent in the same dizzy haze as before, though now she has to do thing before she leaves, so she does, and stuck in the same mind, the only one she seems to have

Today is the day she leaves for the coast. It’s three in the morning, and she has to be at the gates by four. She looks at her home, a small apartment within a building that sat nicely in between the civilian district and the shinobi district, making it a divider of some sorts. 

She’ll be gone for a good few months or so, so she emptied her fridge, packed things away into storage, and because no one had come to bother her these days she cleaned everything and every room every which way for the past two weeks so many times that she’s pretty sure she’s scared the germs away single handedly. She made sure to leave her house plants at the Yamanaka Flower Shop, left a note out on her front for anyone who decided they would spontaneously visit her today, because she just seems to have that luck, said her goodbyes to her loved ones still around, and she made sure to pay her rent in advance. 

So, she can say with absolute certainty, her business here is done for now. 

The bag she hefts onto her back is a heavy one, but the weight is welcomed, and she locks the door when she leaves and drops the keys off in her landlord's mailbox on her way down. The trek to the gate is quiet, the gravel of the road crunching under her feet and the crickets singing to each other as loud as they possibly can. 

She arrives at the gates at four sharp. This time there’s a more competent guard, wide awake and stone faced. A Jounin probably, maybe an ANBU. He asks for papers, mission scrolls, her identification code. She hands them all over accordingly and the stamp he puts on the papers is bright red, Konoha’s leaf surrounded by what looks like a fire. She nods to him when he hands them back, and then she’s on the move again, this time walking down the familiar road bracketed by forests. It will take her two and a half weeks to get to the coast if she’s fast enough, five if she goes at a regular pace. She prepares herself for whatever lies ahead. 

Something sits in the pit of her stomach, heavy like iron, as she hunches her shoulders and she doesn’t look back.

The West Coast is a beautiful place, nothing like she’s ever seen before, but she wouldn’t’ve expected anything less from a city by the sea.

The streets are filled with modern influence and technology, with moving pictures on billboards and in little boxes behind store displays and fancy phone booths with touchscreens every few blocks and styles of clothes that her mother would’ve shunned her for wearing. The people here dress like they’re going to a party and talk with slang that she has a little bit trouble deciphering. Jewelry is a big thing here, with seashells and sand dollars lined with gold decorating their bodies. They certainly are on another level, class wise and economically speaking.

The buildings are as big as the Hokage Tower, maybe even bigger, with rough textures colored in pastel and designs created with sand and cement and topped with large glass squares, most likely for viewing the city below. There’s tons of references to the shore they live by, from the little fish painted on the bottoms of the buildings to the tons of pirate and fishermen themed seafood restaurants that seem to be back to back on every block to the insanely colorful swimsuits in every clothing store’s window. 

So yes. It’s unlike anything she’s ever seen, nothing like Konoha, which, now with some comparison, is meant to be a more rustic, traditional type of village. She feels dreadfully out of place here, in her old red shirt and dusty rose skirt and shinobi gear. The leather of her gloves creak as she clenches her hands. She’ll need to change soon, or else her cover will be blown, quickly. Looks like she has some shopping to do. Good thing she brought cash.

She has to explore for a bit before she finds a store that doesn’t look too expensive and fancy like the rest, and while it isn’t specifically a clothing store, it sells clothes, so it works out. It’s a cute little place, and it has a certain charm to it, a charm that would lure in tourists or passerbys or people who were just coming through, which was probably the intention. Yellow tiles, fluorescent lights overhead, and decorated dark wooden walls and shelves certainly give it a look. The old man at the register is reading something, only briefly looking up at her and waving his hand before returning to it.

 _It would be incredibly easy to steal from here_ , she thinks, and then she brushes that thought away because she doesn’t need to steal anything yet.

She walks out of the store with a couple black, discreet bags and _maybe_ a few stolen goods, but who needs to know that bit? It was a little pricey in there, ok? But she can’t imagine how much she would’ve spent if she went to any other store. She probably wouldn’t have had enough to buy more than one thing, maybe two if she got lucky. They could handle losing a few dollars. 

She has to find a place to stay, so she walks around to find it. That takes a few hours and it leads to her finding a motel that’s closer to the outskirts of the city and by now the sun is dipping heavy under the horizon and has been replaced with the soft blue glow while the last of it’s rays move to make room for the stars. It’s a normal, inconspicuous looking place, with pale yellow walls and light orange roofing. When she walks in, the woman at the front desk is smoking something that smells sweet and her feet are propped up on the desk. She herself looks as normal as the building with dark hair and tanned skin and wearing a flower print shirt with khaki shorts. The woman hands her her room keys, no words exchanged, and when they make eye contact, she pushes her cigar out of the way to make a zipping motion across her lips and winks. She won’t say a thing about seeing a shinobi around here if anybody asks.

Good.

Her room is on the ground floor, room twelve, and the door is a pretty shade of blue with a cute little palm tree and island painted on it. There’s a seagull on it, too, and where it’s eye is supposed to be is the peephole. Pretty good design choice, she’ll have to give them that. She struggles with the keys for a moment, having to do a funny little move that involves a lot of jiggling and several pushes upwards before the door creaks open. 

The room inside is a nice one. It's got one big bed made for two centered against the wall to her right with brightly colored and patterned sheets, blankets, and pillows and it looks incredibly comfortable and it's got two cute side tables, colored white with dark table tops. On the wall opposite of that is a dresser and another one of those bulky picture boxes on top with what she thinks is it’s controller next to it. Beneath her feet is a deep colored carpet, red and soft. The blue wallpaper with flowers and webby designs is peeling off the walls to reveal hot pink and hearts underneath it, but that’s fine, she thinks. She didn’t pay for five stars, now, did she?

Then there’s a little alcove that leads to what was supposed to be a kitchen, but was really only a stove, oven, a couple of cabinets, and a mini fridge next to the rust sink and a dinky little plastic folding table with four rickety chairs. The bathroom is probably the door next to the dresser. The room even has a window in the bedroom area, cute curtains pulled closed, patterned with apple trees. 

The first thing she does after locking her door is head to the kitchen and drop the bags on the table and unpack them. 

First out comes the clothes. First is things for a formal kimono, shades of green and white with hair pieces and jewelry and sandals. Then, a black bodycon dress, leather, with buckles all around and pretty red boots. Finally, a pretty floral dress, short sleeved yellow top with a white and yellow frilly plaid skirt paired with black flats that cost too much. 

Next comes all the makeup and brushes and fake nails. These she thinks she definitely stole, she can’t remember.

Then come the boxes of hair dye, black and blonde and brown. She likes to have a variety to choose from and she needed to restock anyways, just in case she gets another mission after this. 

She decides on the brown dye. By the time she comes out of the bathroom, her hair is darker, shorter, and she doesn’t feel like herself but that’s the point. 

She goes to bed with a plan to find the man tomorrow. And she has an idea of just wear he’ll be at.

She finds him at around seven in the afternoon, at a fancy restaurant, traditional, so she wears the kimono, the fake nails that look natural, and does light makeup, blue around the eyes and black on her lips. They let her in with no hesitation as she presents herself to be someone she’s not, a rich woman who waits for her date. 

She makes sure to sit near by, listening in on his conversation with an older man, a samurai by the looks of it. They’re making a deal, doing business. Interesting, she can bring that information back to Konoha, it might be vital. 

She can’t get to him just yet, patience is key here. She takes a sip from the cheapest drink she could’ve ordered, which was still pretty damn expensive, and _waits_. Waits and waits and waits. Eventually, she catches his eye, and there’s a curious glint in there.

Now.

Sakura smiles at him, coy, and waggles her fingers at him, giggling. Her act works, and he smiles back at her, one brow raised.

Throughout the night, he sends looks her way, and she lures him in with shy faces and light laughter, barely there obscene gestures, and peaks of skin that he would most definitely like to see. They have their own little silent conversation. She decides to deliver the killing blow, leaning over just enough to show off some cleavage as she sends him _the look_ , one she’s known since the age of ten and practiced over and over. 

He understands it perfectly, nods, and they don’t talk for the rest of the time he’s there, but she braces herself for what will happen soon. 

_Remember_ , _stick to the plan_ , she thinks, _go along with it_. _The more relaxed you are_ , _the less it’ll hurt_. _The more spaced out you are_ , _the less memories you’ll have_. 

The _target_ gets up, pays for the bill, and walks out, sending her one last look. She pays hers, and leaves, ready as she’ll ever be.

The moments she walks out, she’s pressed against the wall with a body against hers and a leg trying to push its way between hers. She’s done this enough times to know not to react. Deep breath in, deep breath out. 

“Hello, pretty thing,” a voice mumbles into her ear, a purr. She shudders, though it isn’t out of arousal.

“Hello, mister,” she replies, using _that_ tone.

“No need to be so formal,” he teases.

“Oh? Then what should I call you?”

“Daisuke. What about you, hm?”

She lies through her teeth perfectly as his hands grip her hips, “Fujiko.”

“Well, _Fujiko_ , you wanna . . .?”

No, no she doesn’t really want to, but she _has_ to, for the village, “Oh _yes_. But . . . maybe somewhere more . . . _private_?”

The man agrees readily, like a dog doing a trick for a treat, “My place, we can go there.”

Perfect, just where she needs to go, “Sounds like a plan.”

He pulls away, taking her by the hand, leading her to one of those fancy moving vehicles. The seats inside are plush, velvet, as they slide into the back together, Daisuke having a private driver. It starts with a rumble, and they take off, Daisuke barking out an order to go as fast as possible. He makes moves on her, a hand creeping up her leg, teeth tugging at her ear. She acts accordingly, with teasing touches that leave him wanting, words that leave him hot and bothered. In her head, she’s thinking about everything but this, like what she should make for dinner tomorrow. 

The house they arrive at is huge, fancy, maids and butlers running back and forth as she’s pulled out the car, into the house, down a hall, and practically shoved into a bedroom. It’s a blur then, as slowly she begins to recede into the back of her mind, a natural process to preserve herself. She lets her clothes be stripped away, allows fingers to go places she doesn’t want them to go and teeth to leave marks where she hates having them, and Inner is there to welcome her with open arms, to shield her from what’s going to happen. 

She lays back and _takes it_ because there isn’t anything else she can do. 

_For the village_ , is her last coherent thought of the night.

The next morning, Sakura’s left aching and feeling dirty, but her work pays off. Daisuke gives her a proposition. In return for her _services_ , he’ll give her money, presents, anything to keep her around for a long time. Lady Luck seems to be feeling extra kind to her, maybe out of pity, but it works out in the end. She agrees and Daisuke looks like a cat that got the cream. She feels the same way, though for different reasons. Inside, she laughs.

Three weeks go by, and they're wonderful, and maybe it’s worth paying the price with her body and presence. Her pockets are full, her wardrobe expanded, her stomach never empty, and she has fun. He takes her places, restaurants, casinos, hotels, everywhere Daisuke goes, she follows, his new eye candy, his new sugar baby. He even takes her where _she_ wants to go. She almost feels bad for having to kill him soon, but not bad enough. She knows this man’s background and she knows his dirty work and her deadline is nearing, so she’ll play pretend for as long as it takes so long as she doesn’t stay here for another week. She’ll be oblivious, airheaded, sweet Fujiko. 

That night, Daisuke gives her a red dress and high heels and tells her she’s coming with him to one of his meetings. Sakura wears it, though she swears she can’t breathe in it, and the heels hurt her feet a little. She endures. The car ride is silent, and it makes her uneasy. Daisuke usually brags about himself on their trips.

The car pulls to a stop in front of a large building, and she misses the sad look their driver sends her as she steps out. 

The inside is cold and she shivers, the darkness doing nothing to help ease her.

“Daisuke . . .?”

“Sorry, Fujiko, but I’m afraid our game ends here.”

He grabs her arm, and throws her forward. She braces for the impact of the ground, ready to fight. Instead, two pairs of arms wrap around her, and a hand holds a sweet smelling cloth to her face.

 _Shit_. 

She struggles, fights back as much as she can, but the men are bigger, _stronger_ , and she _loses_. Her vision becomes blurry, things get fuzzy, and Inner is panicking, and her body grows slack.

 _Fuck_ , her last thought, _I am so_ royaly _fucked over_. 

Six months. For six months, Sakura endures hell. She’s kept in a cage, a tiny, rusty cage, in the dark. She’s kept in shackles, in chains and cuffs that rub her skin raw and red and peeling. It’s kept cold in here, in her room, her _prison_ , and she shivers, for she has no blankets, no clothes to cover her, all she has is the seals that keep her from her chakra, keep her from her _power_. Everything is cramped, dark, cold, and _terrible_. And these are just her new arrangements. 

The worst part is what they do to her, she thinks. 

They use her, _violate_ her, and she’s _never_ felt more _disgusted_ in her life, not with herself. Sakura thinks the dark is safer, because when there’s light, light from the open door, it means they’re coming for her. And more often than not, she is left bleeding and bruised, throat raw from all the screaming she does and _something else_ she doesn’t want to think about. She is left feeling worse than _worthless_ , worse than _nothing_.

Then there’s the torture. When they don’t use her for _that_ kind of fun, they use her for another. 

Sometimes she’s strapped to a chair, sometimes to a table, or she’s held down by dirty hands instead of leather straps and metal. But it always happens one way or another. 

Pull out her teeth, remove her eyes, break her fingers and toes and pull her nails off, cut away strips of skin and scalp, and more. So much more. Sometimes, they pour chemicals on her, in her, where chemicals shouldn’t go. Sometimes, they blast retched sounds in her ears, ones that make her eardrums burst and her head ache. She could go on and on about what they do to her. 

When they do that, they bring in a medic nin. A very talented one, one that can was taught by Tsunade for a while before she was let go, turned away for inhumane practices, which she later cultivated into her own skills. 

And she is as talented as she is cruel. 

When she heals Sakura, she heals her viciously, quickly. Sometimes, she even heals her incorrectly. Once, she had left her with six fingers instead of five and no eyes whatsoever. That was a terrifying torture session. The soothing green that she’s come to know has turned into another part of her nightmare. She knows now that here, if she ever sees, that glowing green, she must anticipate pain with it when it comes from the medics here, especially if they aren’t in a good mood. They play with her like a cat playing with a mouse.

But she has one saving grace here, one person she can rely on.

At the end of the day, they send someone, a young boy, to clean her up, feed her, take care of her, make sure she’s ready for the next day. He looks to be about fourteen, scrawny, but not as much as her, with a mop of dark hair and big blue eyes. He’s always kind to her. In return, she is compliant for him. His name is Akira, she learns, just Akira. Hired by whoever Daisuke works for, whoever’s keeping her here.

She learns his story in the nights that they’re together. 

Taken in from the streets about five years ago. Employed to take care of the products, which he hadn’t known would be human at the time of his hiring. He was grateful for the job, to be given a home, a place to sleep and food to eat. But the cost of it turns his stomach. He wants to escape one of these days, wants to leave it all behind. He’s already got the papers, the money, all of it under a new name so he won’t be found. He’s a sweet boy. She hopes he gets his wish. 

In return, she tells him hers. 

Sakura’s never been the number one choice for somebody, always left behind to watch as everyone around her moved on. And she realized it too late and when she did she knew she needed to work, work more often, work harder, run herself into the ground with work, work, _work_. Then eventually, she threw herself into it, into her work, into her lifestyle. And then she met Tsunade and Shizune, who did choose her. Then Ino, who came back. And then Sasuke left, Naruto left, Kakashi left, and slowly the rest of her precious people began to pull away, and then she wanted to leave too. But she couldn’t, didn’t. And then this mission came along and screwed her over with a chainsaw. He tells her that he hopes she gets her wish someday.

And then, one day, as he’s sewing up a new scar on her skin, left over from her last _customer_ , he asks her something that fills her heart with hope for the first time in a while. 

“Do you want to leave?”

“Yes!” she says, a little too quickly, but quiet and raspy. 

Akira nods, his eyes determined, “Then I’ll help you,” he grabs her hands, her dirty, scared hands, and holds them tight, “we’ll get out of this place. Soon.”

She throws her arms around him and cries into his shoulder and she feels like she’s ten years old all over again. 

They plan over the week, every night he comes to her, and as he fixes her up, they talk, pitch ideas back and forth until they come to a solid plan. He brings her more and more food, and slowly she builds her muscles back up, gains more and more weight. She’ll need it, he said. She doesn’t doubt it. 

Eventually, they get a plan. A solid one.

He starts to bring her explosive seals instead of chakra seals like he’s supposed to, because her current ones tend to expire, which is a good thing now. She stashes them under the loose floorboard underneath her cage. 

It’s Sakura’s job to create the distraction, and it’s Akira’s job to do damage control.

He haggles with his superiors, and is successful at it. Somehow, they’re convinced to let Sakura out of her cell, let her walk around the building she’s been kept in for so long. Turns out it’s a fucking castle. She really wants to laugh at the absurdity. 

They assign her chores to do, ones that take her all over the castle, and she’s given clothes to wear when she’s outside of her room. She takes the seals with her, and puts just a little bit of her chakra into them when she places them where no one can see. They’re powerful things, these seals, and if they find them, she’ll get caught and most likely killed. 

One time, she sees Daisuke walking around and almost ruins the plan. Had she not been held down to keep her from biting his eyes out, the seals would’ve fallen from her new, if not ratty, dress. Akira scolds her lightly that night, but he doesn’t blame her for her surge of hatred. 

The boy is too kind, she thinks, and she’s so lucky for that. 

The date of their escape creeps closer and closer, set on the day the big boss is supposed to arrive. Akira stops bringing her seals, and starts bringing her soldier pills, one that boost her chakra stores and levels. Then he brings her too battle axes, ones that he reassures her she doesn’t have to hide, as he convinced his bosses once more to decorate her room to make it look a little more appealing. The axes go on the wall, in a place that’s easy for her to reach. Sakura’s never been more thankful in her life. 

The date of escape comes, and Sakura is left in her cage. Everything is going according to plan. She waits for Akira, who will bring the next step. 

He creeps in silently thirty minutes later, dressed in a hooded cloak with a bag over his shoulder. In his hand is a ring of keys that he uses to free her. As soon as the chains are gone and the cage is open, they hug each other, one last time. Sakura pets his hair as he cries into her shoulder.

“I’ll miss you,” he says, and his voice is so full of honesty that it hurts her a little.

“I’ll miss you, too,” she says, just as heartfelt.

He pulls away, and before he runs out the door, he slips a neck;ace around her neck. A keepsake to remember him. She hands him a screw from her cage, because it’s all she has. He takes it, holds it like it’s the greatest thing in the world, and then he’s off, running away from his old life. 

Sakura waits for the signal. It comes an hour later, a flare of Akira’s leftover chakra that tells her the barrier is up, and that he’s long gone by now, the seals set to go off when he was at least thirty miles away. 

It’s time. She breathes in deep, anticipation flooding her. The axes come off the wall, heavy in her hand. She does a test run, once, twice, and she’s still got it in her. Good. A little rusty but good. 

The door creaks open, and her footsteps are light as she steps out. 

Her chakra rushes out in tendrils, finding the explosive seals, all one hundred of them and then-!

She breathes out, joyful, “ _Release_.”

The structure of the castle comes undone with a deafening “BOOM!” and chaos erupts. 

_Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned_ , they say. And Sakura might as well be the Devil himself. 

They say that victory tastes sweet, but to her it tastes metallic. 

Around her there is fire, it licks against her bare skin, and it bakes the blood that colors her, burns the ends of her dripping and darkened hair. Beneath her are bodies, bodies that _she_ cut down, killed. Behind her is the rubble of a once grand castle turned to ruins, with its country's flags torn to shreds and whipping in the howling wind and contrasting against the dark sky. And in the air there is screaming, the sound of running, and the sound of pleas as they beg to be let out, let out, _let them out_ , _please_! as they bang their fists against an invisible barrier. 

Surprisingly, this does not bother her as much as it should. _Breathe_ , she thinks, _breathe_. Soon, soon it will be over. She focuses on the weight of the giant battle axes in her hands, remembers why she’s doing this, remembers the bomb she’d set off, remembers the way she’d been so excited to get that sweet, sweet revenge and how the first taste of fresh blood sparked something dark under her skin, crawling like spiders, like predators, _waiting_. 

She lifts the axes up, and slowly, she stalks forward towards the small group that’s been herded in front of her, at the barrier, trying so desperately to push through. Almost, she pities them, but she has more empathy for a sewer rat than these people, as if they even deserve such a title. 

One turns around at the sound of her steps on the stone, the slap of blood wetted flesh against its surface, and screams, and the rest follow in his steps. She must make a sight to them, a sight that isn’t as pretty as they’d hoped. She looks like a demon, a monster, all naked and red and looking like the day she came from the womb with eyes as wild as the forests beyond. But to hell with it, to hell with looking like a princess, to hell with being pretty, _to hell with it all_. Her fingers tighten around the handles and she quicken her steps if only a little bit.

She’s more bloodthirsty than she’s letting herself believe, she knows, but she doesn’t particularly care at the moment, not when the chance to sate it is right there in front of her.

The one to scream is the first one to be silenced as she brings the axe up and then down with a nasty _crunch_ onto his head. The cut is clean but what comes out isn’t. Blood and brains seeps past the axe. A certain kind of thrill worms it’s way up her spine like thread through a needle, and she pulls the axe out. Pulling it out is always messier, as she takes a few bone shards and something else with it, and a spurt of red paints her face. She licks her lips, and a tangy taste is what greets her tongue. Something in her sings high and mighty and demands more, more, _more_!

So she gives it more, uses both axes and swings them into the body of a dead man, and _more_ and _more_ comes out as the blows rain down. 

And when that body has nothing more to give, she zeros in on the rest with pinpoint, sharp focus. There’s twelve of them, and they’re frozen in fear, of course they are, and have yet to make the slightest attempt to run.

_Pathetic_ , she thinks, _but not unexpected_. She knows these men like the back of her hand, and she knows that under their greasy, boil covered skins are nothing but slimy worms and greedy shrews for hearts and brains. 

She advances with terrifying speed, and only then do they try to scatter. But they are old, their bodies starting to fail them and their hair as grey as storm clouds, and they are slow. It’s sad, almost, disheartening in a way, how they attempt something so poorly. It almost makes her pout. But she is too hungry for something she cannot place just yet, so she powers through that disappointment and hurdles herself into something akin to needy bloodlust.

One by one, she attacks, all in different fashions. Sometimes it’s the blade she uses, but other times it’s the handle. Sometimes it’s their heads she goes for, but other times it’s arms and legs and bellies. She goes at it until the violence narrows it down to one. He’s thinner than a skeleton with flesh that hangs like heavy velvet curtains and he’s sweating like a pig and wheezing, wailing, just as loud. She has him cornered, pushed against the barrier, on his back and looking up at her as she stands tall above him.

A strange sort of satisfaction worms its way into her head and her lips nearly twitch into a smile, but she holds it down. He looks at her with fear, with an angry sort of horror and disbelief.

“What are you!? WHAT ARE YOU!?” he demands.

Not _who_ , _what_.

She stills, says nothing as she gathers her thoughts, pulling them through the fog that covers her mind, as she looks to the sky. For a moment that feels like forever, the noise of the fire, of their breathing, is too loud. Finally, turning blank green eyes back on their target, she hums. Then she speaks. Her voice is raspy and quiet and, though she only says one thing, scarier than she looks.

“Sakura.”

And then she raises the axes above her head, and brings both of them down. And then she does it again. And again. And again. Again, again, again. Until there’s nothing left and all she’s doing is playing with puddles.

The barrier finally gives in, and shatters into a beautiful shower of purple glitter, fading as it catches along the wind. She smiles, her teeth as red as the rest of her.

She knows she can never go back now, not when she’s become something she’s proud of and she knows that Konoha doesn’t let monsters into its folds and melt back into their society.

She walks away from the carnage, and she doesn’t look back.

She has no regrets and she never will. 

Sakura looks up, laughs, laughs, laughs, and it turns into a scream, one that she releases into the air, into the sky. She screams as loud as she possibly can and it sounds anything _but_ human.

The Shinigami tilts his head and Jashin is curious as to what he’s listening for.

“What is it?” he asks.

His friend’s face is contemplated and he waves a hand when he speaks, “ . . . Nothing. Thought I heard something. I’m sure it’s not important.”

And yet why does he sound so unsure? 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Comments and Kudos are welcomed with open arms round here!


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